The Spoils of War
by Aerie2
Summary: Harry kills Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus LeStrange, and Voldemort and, as Bellatrix LeStrange and Narcissa Malfoy lie in the mud at his feet, proclaims an ancient cry of victory. Little does he realize the impact of claiming the spoils of war.
1. Chapter 1

**THE SPOILS OF WAR**

**By AERIE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**_PRAEDIA BELLICA_**

He was bruised and bleeding, but the adrenaline, fueled by the berserker fury of battle, pushed him on a through the pouring rain. Crouched over, he ran past the bodies of Death Eaters who had fallen from the onslaught of the assembled throng of Order members, Aurors and Unspeakables. All too many had fallen by his own hand.

And now he was through. Past the outer defenses. Through the dense forest that had provided cover for the dark forces. Past the inner defenses, with its boulders and splintered trees for Death Eaters to cower behind. To the heart of the fight at the top of the hill, where nothing but the rain shielded his opponents

It was now coming down in torrents. 'The better to wash away the blood,' he thought grimly, as he continued forward.

There were very few of the Dark Lord's inner circle left. He noticed Pettigrew's body first. And McNair's. Dolohov. Jugson. Rastaban LeStrange lay still, his head leaning at an unnatural angle from his shoulders.

He heard a sudden screeching in fury and looked to his left. Out of the sheets of rain, he could see Rodolphus LeStrange was leveling his wand as Bellatrix fumbled with hers.

"_Reducto_!" he shouted. Rodolphus took the curse squarely in the chest, his body exploding. The impact of the curse knocked Bellatrix ten feet to the side, her wand now shattered, its pieces deep in the mud.

He continued forward. Then the shaken and snarling figure of Lucius Malfoy appeared through the pouring rain. "_Avada_ ..." that once imperious but now bedraggled lord of the purebloods growled.

The growl was cut off as the boy threw a shearing curse at the blond pureblood. Lucius Malfoy's eyes seemed to blink several times in confusion as his head slowly toppled from his shoulders. The remainder of his body seemed slowly to sink backward, pinning a screaming Narcissa Malfoy underneath him.

There was only one left.

A bolt of lightning briefly illuminated the top of the hill. Through the sheets of rain, he could see his target. Voldemort. He concentrated on the pinpricks of intense red, the monster's eyes.

"So, it has come down to you..."

The Dark Lord never got to finish his little greeting, as the boy sent another _Reductor_ curse. It was just the opening salvo.

The boy used every curse, dark or light, that he could think of, often doubling and tripling them. And he could see now that the Dark Lord, while able to bat each curse away, was tiring. He began to stalk the evil presence with a new and growing confidence.

He had taken hexes and curses, had dodged and weaved his way through two miles of battle. But this was what he had been training for these past two years. For two years, Moody had been teaching him the curses. For two years Shacklebolt had dogged him in his physical training and stamina. For two years, Tonks had worked with him on concealment and agility to avoid curses. For two years, Lupin had shown him how to reach down in his magical reserves when he thought he had nothing left and showed him he could fight on. And for two years, Dumbledore had put this all together the teach him how to use it in this, the final battle. And it was now paying off.

And on he fought. An exhausted Voldemort now knew he was overmatched. He tried, not for the first time, to apparate out. But the wards cast by the side of the light held. There would be no abandoning the battlefield this day. It would be the final fight. And it would be to the death.

He watched as Voldemort panted and prepared himself for the next onslaught. He watched as the Dark Lord lowered his wand at him. This was the moment he was waiting for.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" the Snake-like creature hissed.

"_Expelliarmus_!" he replied, aiming not at Voldemort, but at the creature's wand.

The curses met and, as happened at the base of the grave of Tom Riddle Sr. after the TriWizard Tournament in his fourth year, the curses met, locking the two opponents' brother wands.

Voldemort pressed all his magical will into his curse, and the bead of light at the point where the curses met slowly seemed to edge forward, away from him. Then, the bead stopped.

Voldemort looked up and saw the strain on the face of his opponent. But he also saw something else. His opponent was beginning to lean forward, taking slow but steady steps toward him.

Again, the Dark Lord concentrated on the magic. But three hours of battle had exhausted him, physically, mentally and magically. As Voldemort pressed forward, he slipped in the mud and had to struggle for balance. As he looked up, the gap had closed. The boy was merely a few feet away. He tried to yank his wand away to escpe the boy's power, but that merely reduced the force of his own curse further.

Then, they were face to face.

The boy, his ragged hair soaked over his muddy face, suddenly grinned. "Bye, Tom," he muttered in a strained voice.

Voldemort saw his opponent suddenly reach forward with his left hand and grab his wand, yanking it out of his sweat and rain-soaked grasp. Then, with an elegant move, the boy clapped the two wands together and, wheeling around, thrust them physically deep into the Dark Lord's chest. "_Inflammare_!" he screamed.

Voldemort felt the fire start deep in his chest. By the time he lost consciousness, his skin began to grow a deep, fiery red. His entire body suddenly erupted in white-hot flames, defying even the rain. In seconds, it was over.

Harry Potter had won. Voldemort was no more.

The rain suddenly lessened to a soft sprinkle. Harry turned and saw in the distance below dozens, if not hundreds of victorious friends and allies looking his way. He raised the two wands in salute. He felt he should cry something out, a bellow of triumph, but the words didn't come. Then it started. The cheers from below, down the hill. Cheers and cries of victory, of exultation, of relief. He began the slow walk down the hill, when his eye caught movement. A bloody and filthy Bellatrix LeStrange was crawling painfully through the mud toward her sister, Narcissa.

Narcissa, always in the past so elegant and beautiful, looked horrible, her sleek blond hair matted in mud, her silver silk robes splattered with rain, dirt and the blood of her dead husband.

Harry leveled his wand at the two bedraggled women, who now were together and holding each other for support.

Then the kneeling Narcissa looked up to see Harry approach. A shiver of terror went through her body. "He's dead, isn't he," she croaked out in a harsh voice. She said this more as a statement than as a question.

Bellatrix looked up with haunted, pleading eyes, as if begging that this wasn't true.

Harry, his wand still trained on the unarmed women, nodded. "Voldemort is dead. There will be no resurrection this time," he said in a voice hoarse from the cries of battle.

Narcissa lowered her head in defeat. Bellatrix collapsed in tears against her sister.

Bellatrix knew she was dead, now. This she certain of. She would be kissed by a dementor then, as a living husk of a person, would consigned to Azkaban for the brief remainder of her miserable, soulless life.

Then Bellatrix stopped crying. Her head jerked up and she stared at Harry, who was looming above the two sisters. "Claim us," she gasped out.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kill the two, or at least Bellatrix.

"Claim us," Bellatrix repeated.

Narcissa looked at her sister in shock. "NO!" she screamed.

"Claim us!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "Grab us both and shout '_Praedia Bellica_!' Claim us!"

Narcissa was now grabbing her sister roughly. "Are you insane!" She glanced in horror at Harry. "Stay away! Don't you dare, Potter!"

Harry hawked and spit a bloody gob to the side then looked at the two women. He wasn't sure about the charm. He had heard of the victors of great battles of the past making such spells. '_Praedia Bellica_.' The phrase that was used by Mikan the Magnificent at that last battle for Atlantis. Lain the Lucky, after defeating the Dark Lord Gaspar at the Emerald Castle. And Godric Gryffindor at the Battle of Breen, which cemented his reputation as one of the great warriors in the Wizarding World.

Then he saw the terror in Narcissa's eyes.

And he smiled. He walked the last few steps so he was looming over the two women. Bellatrix suddenly grabbed him around the legs desperately. "Claim us," she begged in forlorn, pleading voice.

Narcissa, on the other hand, was trying to scramble away. But her robes were caught under her sister and she collapsed again in the mud.

Harry looked down at the two beautiful, filthy sisters. Then he gave them an evil grin. '_Praedia Bellica_.' The words of triumph, of victory that had eluded him were now there. He still wasn't sure what the spell was about but, judging from Narcissa's reaction, it was something he desperately wanted to cast if only to provoke her further.

Harry glanced up at the throng representing the side of light slogging their way to him. Then he glanced down at Bellatrix and Narcissa again. He reached down and grabbed a handful of Narcissa's matted hair and pulled her head next to Bellatrix's, and then grasped a few locks of that madwoman's hair in the same hand. Then he looked up at the group of his allies approaching and raised his wand, and that of Voldemort's, over his head.

"_PRAEDIA BELLICA_!" He screamed.

There was a sudden, golden flash that seemed to engulf the three people. The glow slowly faded until it was limited to the wrists of the two Black sisters before it slowly faded away.

Harry watched as several members of the victorious group approaching him stopped. Among them was Albus Dumbledore, who simply stared, open-mouthed. "Oh, Harry. What have you done?"

Harry then glanced down at the two sisters, who were now moaning in pain and grasping their wrists. Then Bellatrix slipped her hand from her wrist to peek underneath. That's when Harry saw it. A Magical tattoo. The tattoo was of a Golden Griffin rampant, a snake dangling from its beak and a lightning bolt in one of its talons. It was on a shield, quartered, with the red and blue quarters separated by a cross of gold. And underneath, a waving banner. The banner read: 'Potter.'

Harry yanked Narcissa's hand away. She had the same tattoo.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Just as his friends were about to engulf him, he had time for one thought: 'Oh, Harry. What have you done?'

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked as he glanced around the Headmaster's office. "Not that I mind. I mean, I could do without all those Ministry officials and reporters. But shouldn't there be some sort of formal debriefing or something like that. Just so everyone knows what finally happened."

Albus Dumbledore nodded as he leaned back into his surprisingly cushy, throne-like chair. "Madame Bones and a team of Aurors are reviewing the memories we put in your pensieve. But they will want a series of statements, as well."

Harry, now cleaned up, quickly healed and rested from his battle, sighed. "You didn't answer my question," he said quietly.

Dumbledore opened his eyes and gave Harry a weak, tired smile. "I thought you might be safer and more comfortable here. It seems you've put the Ministry in something of an uproar. Most of the senior ministers as well as our beloved Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had no inkling of the upcoming battle. And that little spell you cast at the end has left everyone in shock. Tell me, why did you do it?"

Harry snorted. "Bellatrix asked me to do it. I had heard of the spell in the past...and yes, I have, on occasion, paid attention in my History of Magic classes. It made sense. 'To the victor go the spoils.' Then, when Narcissa started screaming and trying to get away, I thought it would be a great idea, if only to infuriate a Malfoy."

Dumbledore shook his head in bemusement. "Do you have any idea what that spell entails? What it does?"

Harry pursed his lips in anxiety. "I figured it meant that I would finally get some credit for what happened. And anyway, it felt good. Like a final release from all I've been going through."

Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled, albeit somewhat ruefully. "Harry, when a witch or wizard serving the light defeats someone serving the dark in a battle in defense of the wizarding world, the victor has a right to claim 'the spoils.' The successful casting of that spell makes that right binding on the Wizarding World. Those spoils include everything the defeated owns or has."

Harry frowned. "I don't get it."

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry, you cast the spell and it worked. That means you now own as a matter of indisputable right the entire Malfoy fortune and the entire LeStrange fortune. While the LeStranges were not the richest family, their holdings were significant. But the Malfoy fortune is vast, possibly the largest in the wizarding world. The Ministry was just itching to get their hands on it. And now they can't. It is yours to do with as you please."

Harry shrugged. "I don't need the money. My family had plenty of gold," he muttered.

Dumbledore sighed. "Nonetheless, it is yours."

Harry shrugged. He stared silently off into space. "So what's going to happen to Bellatrix and Narcissa? I hope they both rot in Azkaban."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Ah, that is the conundrum," he said with a sigh. "Bellatrix would have doubtless been administered the Dementor's kiss...that is, if they can find a Dementor after what you managed to do to them during the past few battles. Narcissa, on the other hand, may have had the money and influence to bribe her way out of being prosecuted just as Lucius did many years ago after the first defeat of Voldemort."

Harry began chuckling. "And now she doesn't have any money for bribes. So now we'll see justice, not gold, rule."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I am afraid that is not what will happen."

Harry's head jerked up in anger. "You mean she's going to get off? What about Bellatrix? Oh, don't tell me they're going to get away with everything again," he said in an bitter tone.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The spell you cast, Harry. It insulated them from outside punishment."

Harry's eyes bored into Dumbledore's. "So we'll reverse the spell. I didn't want their money anyway. What I want is justice!"

The headmaster frowned and paused for a few moments, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up at Harry with a strange intensity. "The charm cannot be reversed. It will be your burden. Think of it as a test of your character."

A furious Harry stood up and began pacing. "I'm damned sick and tired of being the one whose character always gets tested, while everyone else gets to walk away without a care in the world as if nothing happened. First the Dursleys were a test of my character. Then the defense of the philosopher's stone. A real character-builder that was, almost getting myself, Ron, and Hermione killed. The chamber of secrets, where everyone thought me to be some evil lunatic. And what did I get for my trouble? A basilisk fang in my arm!"

"You saved Ginny Weasley's life," Dumbledore said softly.

However, Harry wasn't listening. "Sure! And defending Sirius when no one but Hermione and I, and later Ron, believed in him. Another real character builder. Then, all the slander after the TriWizard Tournament. I had to watch one of the best people I ever met die and suddenly everyone thinks I'm an inconvenient lunatic. Then the prophesy! And losing the one person who could have taken me away from the Dursley's. The one adult who cared for me! Just me! Not some weapon or psycho. That really tested my character," he snapped sarcastically. "Then the whole half-blood prince thing. Then the torture of training. Oh, they built character, all right. I've had character building up to here," he yelled, motioning with his palm to his chin. "Just let me get a hold of Bellatrix and Narcissa, and I'll show you some character building," he exclaimed as he flopped back down in his chair, running his hands through his freshly scrubbed but still unruly hair.

Dumbledore paused for a couple moments to let Harry calm down a bit. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. "That is where your character must show through, Harry. You have been the beacon for the side of the light, reluctantly at times, but nonetheless the one shining light for our side. You must continue to be that beacon, that sole voice of sanity in a world forever teetering on the brink of darkness."

Harry looked up, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Why does it have to be me?"

Dumbledore looked at the seventeen-year-old man before him with sympathy. Then he frowned. "Perhaps you don't understand. You mentioned that you saw the tattoos on Bellatrix and Narcissa's wrists."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah."

Dumbledore nodded. "That means they are beyond punishment or judgment by the outside world. When you cast the 'Preadia Bellica' spell, you made indisputable a claim not just on the Malfoy and LeStrange estates, properties and gold, but on the spouses and underaged children who worked in furtherance of the cause of the dark. The theory of it is that a hero's justice is superior to that dispensed by any civil authority." Dumbledore looked up at Harry from under beetled brows. "Or perhaps you already knew that from your extensive study of Wizarding history," he said with an indulgent smile. Then he paused. "By the way, the History of Magic N.E.W.T. exam was postponed because of the call to arms. As it was the last of the N.E.W.T.s, you may request a rescheduling, or simply accept your class gardes."

Harry's head jerked up in surprise. "What?"

Dumbledore chuckled, then his smile faded. "As I was saying, the spell gives you ownership of spouses and unemancipated children of the vanquished. As Draco Malfoy came of age last year and LeStranges were childless, you have no children to claim. But as to Narcissa and Bellatrix, they are your property, to do with them what you please without threat of censure or consequence."

Harry closed his eyes and cursed.

At this reaction, the Headmaster's face became troubled. "Harry, the history of the spell you cast is not a sanguine one. True, it has served as the basis for many of the great fortunes in the Wizarding world. The Weasleys were among the earliest beneficiaries of the spell, although they have had a history of generosity, as well as fertility, so that fortune now has dissipated. It also is the basis for the Abbott and Zabini fortunes."

Harry blinked in startled silence at this history lesson.

Dumbeldore cleared his throat. "However, there is a darker side in the history of that spell. Many victors used their new powers to impose terrible revenge on the families they claimed. Rape, torture and murder were not uncommon. A few successful champions of the light went so far in their abuses of the defeated families as to succumb to the lure of the dark. The Weasleys, the Abbotts and the Zabinis are proud clans who can point to their ancestors' generosity of spirit in their treatment of the families of their foes. The Malfoys, the McNairs, and, yes, the Blacks, have all had ancestors who were champions of the light who descended into darkness and revenge." Dumbeldore took a deep breath. "That is why I was so taken aback by your use of the spell. The rewards are great, but the risks to your soul are terrible."

Harry now hung his head. "Where are they?" he asked quietly.

"They now are being held in one of the unused offices in the dungeons, awaiting your pleasure. You may do with them as you please, to punish or reward them however you would like. And if you kill them, no one will do anything about it as they are no longer considered people. Just property. Your property. But remember this. They have done dark things. Terrible things. But they are still human beings. Human beings not only under your power, but also in your care. Please remember this."

Harry sat stock still, staring in sorrow at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore leaned back and sighed. "It will be a test of your character on how you deal with them. People will always remember what you've done to save this world from its worst nightmares. It will be up to you to preserve that memory, and not tarnish it with subsequent dark or abusive acts."

Harry stared at the headmaster for a long time, digesting this statement.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE SPOILS OF WAR**

**BY AERIE**

**CHAPTER TWO**

**MASTER**

It took another day for the powers that be to complete at least their preliminary interrogation of Harry. Of course, there was a press conference. Every ministry official was there for their moment in the spotlight with the great hero, Harry Potter. No one was more intrusive, of course, than Cornelius Fudge. When pressed by the reporters present on Fudge's role in Voldemort's downfall, Harry was at a loss. He wanted to say something biting, but Dumbledore had cautioned him to keep his remarks neutral. So finally, Harry mentioned that Fudge had graciously not interfered with the plans against the Dark Lord, drawing some snickers. Fudge, ever quick on his feet, made some noises about how he thought it best to leave things to the 'experts.'

All questions about the spell Harry had cast, and there were many, were deferred to Dumbledore, who was at his platitudinous best. Of course, the reporters from _Witch Weekly_ and _Teen Witch Weekly_ asked relentlessly about any girlfriends or love interests in his life, and how it felt to be not only the most heroic and eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World, but doubtless, now the richest. Harry tried to remain calm and noncommittal, and thought he had succeeded until he saw the stories these reporters wrote about various 'mystery women' in his life.

And he was asked about Narcissa and Bellatrix. His scowl of distaste at the mention of their names was enough for any reporter present to conclude that the sisters had little to look forward to under Harry's care.

It was now the third day since the final battle and he wanted nothing more than go back to the Gryffindor common room to see his friends, Hermione and Ron, Neville and Ginny, Seamus and Dean, Lavender and Parvati, and relax away from the glare of publicity, adulation, and controversy. He knew he didn't have long to wait, now that the last review of the final battle for the members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered in the Headmaster's office was over.

Nymphadora Tonks had offered to escort him up to the Tower. Then Snape spoke up. "Don't you think you should see after your ... 'property' down in the dungeons," he said with a smirk.

Harry closed his eyes in exasperation and bit off the nasty retort that was on the tip of his tongue. Seeing Narcissa, and especially Bellatrix, was the last thing he wanted. But Dumbledore caught his eye and Harry nodded in resignation.

It was a long walk with Snape down from the Headmaster's quarters to the area of the dungeons where 'The Notorious Black Sisters,' as they were now being called in the press, were being kept. Snape nodded to a portrait at the end of a dark hallway. "The password is '_Succubi_'," Snape said with a sneer.

Harry gave the Potions Master a quick glare, but Snape merely swept down the hall and back toward his office.

Harry gave the password and entered. He was startled by what he saw. Narcissa was sitting in a desk chair paging idly through an old charms textbook while Bellatrix was curled up, sleeping uncomfortably on a love seat. Both had shed their filthy robes but were in the same mud and blood-spattered clothes they wore underneath on that faithful day. Bellatrix was in what looked to be gray tweed slacks and a black cable jumper under the filth. Narcissa was in what appeared to be a ruined rust-colored suede skirt that came below the knee and a torn and stained cream-colored silk blouse. Her heeled boots were on the floor beside the desk, leaving her barefooted.

Narcissa looked up with tired eyes. "Come to assess the damage, Potter? Or just assaying your property," she drawled.

Bellatrix stirred and Harry whipped out his wand.

"Oh, put it away, Potter," Narcissa said in a resigned tone. "That spell you cast pretty much took care of anything we might want to do to you."

Harry cocked an eyebrow.

Narcissa sighed. "As your ... 'spoils of war,' we are prevented from doing anything not in your interest. Like killing you," she said with disinterest as she idly paged through the charms text.

Harry simply glared at her.

After a few moments of hesitation, she looked up. "Listen, can you do something about our clothes? We've been down here for two days with nothing but the occasional tray of scraps to eat. And could you do something about a toilet? Something more than a slop bucket? Bathilda Bagshot's History of Magic series was absolutely abysmal reading, but it serves even worse as toilet tissue," she said with a resigned sigh.

Bellatrix sat up and massaged her shoulder, eyeing Harry cautiously. "Got any pain potions?" she asked quietly. "That last curse hurt like hell," she muttered.

Harry blinked at the conditions the women were being forced to live in and was appalled. He had a quick flash of how they would be even worse in Azkaban. But these women were his property. Then, he shook his head at the appalling notion. No, they were his responsibility. "Dobby!" he called out.

In an instant, Dobby appeared and smiled up at Harry. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir! You called your good friend Dobby? How can Dobby help?" Dobby glanced around the room, then shuddered when he saw Narcissa and stepped around until he was safe behind Harry's legs.

Harry looked with concern at his house-elf friend. "Are you all right, Dobby?"

Dobby looked up at Harry with frightened eyes. "Is Dobby going back to his old master, Master Harry Potter?"

Harry blinked a couple times, then realized that Dobby had once worked for Narcissa. He gave the elder Black sister an angry look, then knelt down in front of Dobby. "No, Dobby. Your previous Master is dead. I killed him. Did Mistress Malfoy mistreat you like he did?"

Dobby peered around Harry's body to give a shocked Narcissa a baleful look. "No, Master Harry Potter. Mistress Malfoy treated Dobby well. But whenever she did, Master Malfoy beat Dobby for insolence. Bad Dobby! Bad!"

Harry grabbed Dobby to keep the elf from doing anything to harm himself. Then he held Dobby at arm's length to look the shamed elf in the eye. "Dobby, you've done nothing wrong. And nobody's going to hurt you. Nobody ever will if I can help it."

Dobby suddenly threw his arms around Harry and exploded into tears. "Harry Potter is the greatest friend Dobby has ever heard of," he exclaimed between sobs.

Harry looked up to see Bellatrix staring at him in curiosity and Narcissa watching him in surprise.

He waited until Dobby's storm of tears had crested before pushing the house elf out to arm's length again. "Dobby, is there any reason why no one has been in here to help clean or take care of these ladies?"

Dobby looked down, ashamed. "House elves are being told to bring food here twice a day, but do nothing else."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Who told you that?"

Dobby gave a furtive look around. "Master Filch tells house elves this. He is saying Mister Minister Percy orders these things."

Harry closed his eyes and uttered a quiet curse. "Well Master Harry Potter has a big favor to ask of his good friend Dobby," he said slowly and intensely. "Harry Potter would be very happy and very grateful to his good friend Dobby if Dobby could find clean clothes for Mistress Narcissa and Mistress Bellatrix. He would also be very grateful if the two ladies could have access to a toilet and shower."

Dobby glanced back and forth at the women and Harry. Then he broke out into a broad grin. He little house elf walked over to a blank wall and pointed his finger, tracing a rectangular outline. Where the outline was made, a door appeared. He snapped his fingers and Harry peered in and was surprised. But before her had a chance to react, Narcissa glided by and entered the room. Bellatrix quickly followed.

Harry entered and blinked in surprise. They were all in an elegantly appointed bathroom with a small swimming pool sunken into the floor. He thought he recognized the place, but it was not exactly as he remembered it.

"Where are we?" Harry asked in a shaky voice.

"The girls' prefects' bathroom," Narcissa said quietly as she fingered the fluffy towels with a sigh.

"You were a prefect?" Harry asked.

Narcissa nodded.

Harry was distracted by movement on his left. Bellatrix was taking her dirty and bloody-stained clothes off. He blushed furiously and turned away.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "It's not like we need a chaperone, Potter. We have learned to bathe ourselves. Unless, of course, you insist," she drawled. But suddenly, she turned away, looking upset with herself. 'No use putting ideas into his head,' she thought, berating herself mentally.

Harry looked down at a happily smiling Dobby. "Uh, can you make sure they have clean clothes and bring them back to their room in the dungeons when they are ready?" Then he paused. "Dobby, is there anywhere else we can put them where they'll be safe and comfortable, but prevented from escaping?" Harry whispered.

Dobby looked up at Harry and crooked his finger. Harry leaned down and listened carefully. Then he smiled and nodded. He chanced a look in the women's direction, then quickly looked away as he caught a bit of skin from Narcissa and quite a bit more from Bellatrix. He started staring nervously at the far wall. "Dobby will escort you to a new room when you are done here," he managed to force out over his shoulder before nodding to Dobby. Dobby managed to walk him back through the conjured portal to the dungeons, but not before he heard a quiet 'Thank you' from Bellatrix.

As Harry entered the Gryffindor common room for the first time since the battle, the normal hubbub almost instantly stopped. Then everyone started cheering, led by Ron and Ginny. Harry was suddenly engulfed in hugs and people grabbing his shoulders or patting him on the back. Finally, he found himself turned around and came face-to-face with Hermione, who threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, beginning to sob. "It's over," she cried between gasping breaths. "It's finally over."

Harry smiled to himself. It was nice to feel Hermione in his arms. After nearly two years of a monk-like existence while he trained, Hermione's warmth and softness was like a balm to his weary soul.

As things began to calm down, Ron led Harry, Hermione and Ginny over to the squashy couch in front of the fire, which some fifth years happily abandoned to their hero.

Harry leaned back between his two best friends and found his left leg embraced by Ginny, who sat at his feet. He threw his arms around his friends' shoulders and sighed happily. "I can't believe it's finally over," he whispered. All three of his friends tightened their grips on him and he smiled.

After a few minutes of quiet contentment, Harry turned and glanced around the common room. "Where's Neville? I didn't see him down here."

He could feel his friends tense. Harry turned his head anxiously back and forth between Ron and Hermione.

Then Ron cursed. "I can't believe they didn't tell you," he exclaimed hotly. Then he glanced at Harry sadly.

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "What?" he asked in a harsh, anxious voice. He could feel Hermione's grip on him tighten.

Ron lowered his head. "Neville didn't make it," he said quietly.

Harry's eyes widened and began to cloud. "What ... what do you mean?"

Hermione leaned into him. "Neville took a killing curse shielding Luna during the final battle. He died a hero," she whispered, her voice cracking.

At the news, Harry seemed to deflate. "Who did it?" he asked in a tight voice.

Ron frowned. "No one knows. He was right behind you, covering your back, when you made the breakthrough. There was a group of Death Eaters to the side that hit Luna with a couple _Crucios_. Neville cursed several of them when they started throwing killing curses. Neville shielded Luna. We tried to cover him, but he was out in the open. I got a few and so did Hermione. But there were too many. Then he was gone. A bunch of Unspeakables came up to reinforce us and made quick work of the group. Killed them all. But it was too late for Neville."

Harry was breathing heavily. "How's Susan taking it?" referring to Neville's girlfriend, Susan Bones of Hufflepuff.

Ginny squeezed Harry's calf, which she was hugging as if for dear life. "Not good. Hannah says she hasn't been out of her dorm since it happened. Even her aunt can't get her to come out."

Harry closed his eyes, squeezing a few more tears out. "Who else?"

Hermione looked puzzled and concerned, but Ron sighed. "Wayne Hopkins of Hufflepuff. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw in our year." Ron sighed. "Two fourth-year Slytherins from the D.A. Old Dung Fletcher and Hestia Jones from the Order. About a dozen Aurors and a couple Unspeakables. About fifteen others on our side who weren't part of any organized group ... just people who showed up to fight beside us. St. Mungo's is full up with casualties, from what Dad says."

Harry gave a vague nod, his eyes cloudy. 'So many friends gone,' he thought. "What about the other side," he muttered.

Ginny leaned her head on Harry's knee. "Dad says they found the bodies of eighty or so Death Eaters. Over a hundred were captured," she said.

Ron coughed. "Zacharias Smith and Millicent Bulstrode were killed among the Death Eaters. Marcus Flint lost an arm. No more flying for him, the bastard." After a couple moments, he spoke again. "You'll love this," he said quietly. "Draco Malfoy never showed up. He never took the mark, but several Death Eaters said he was working for ... Voldemort. Even Crabbe and Goyle admitted it when they surrendered. Bloody coward."

Harry blinked. Suddenly, he sat up, his temper rising. "Malfoy!" he growled.

Surprising his three closest friends, he stood up and stalked out of the common room in a fury.

Within minutes, he was on the seventh floor just past the statue of Barnabas the Barmy, pacing back and forth. The door of the Room of Requirement opened and he entered an elegant suite of rooms decorated in the richest of taste.

Narcissa looked up from her vanity, where she was brushing her thick blond hair. She arched her now once-again artfully sculpted eyebrows. "Is this a social call, Potter?"

Harry glowered at her. "Shut the fuck up, bitch! Remember who you're talking to! I own you!"

The woman stared open-mouthed at Harry in shock.

"Where's your sister?" Harry demanded.

Narcissa pointed a now clean and once again perfectly manicured finger to a door that the room had provided for the sisters.

"Lestrange! Get you arse in here! Now!" Harry shouted.

Bellatrix stumbled through the door in a long dressing gown over silk pajamas. She too looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Harry grabbed her by the arm and flung her on the soft couch next to her sister.

"You!" Harry yelled as he pointed at Bellatrix. "You helped destroy the life of one of my best friends. Neville Longbottom was one of the best persons I've ever known in my life! And you tortured his parents to insanity, leaving him a childhood without a loving mother and father! And now he's dead! He never had a chance to enjoy a life because of you!"

Bellatrix crumpled into the arm of the couch, quivering.

Harry wheeled on Narcissa. "And you! You and that arrogant piece of filth you called a husband did everything in your power, which was enormous, to make sure Voldemort destroyed as many lives as possible!"

Narcissa flinched.

"And when things didn't turn out right for you the first time, you went groveling with your best 'who me?' acts and your fists full of galleons to beg for your freedom like the sniveling cowards you are. Then Voldemort came back, and who were the first ones to come and kiss his arse? The Malfoys! For all your airs of superiority, I've never seen a more worthless group of trash in my life!" Harry screamed.

He was now pacing back a forth in front of the two sisters, growing angrier by the moment. Then he turned on them. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't end your worthless lives right now!"

Bellatrix was still curled against the arm of the couch, while Narcissa looked up at Harry, her entire body shaking in fear.

Harry stopped in front of the couch. He slowly raised his wand. Just as he felt his rage reach its peak, he thought of Dumbledore's words. This was his 'test of character.'

He glared at the two sisters. He took a deep breath. "You are my property," he said in a low, menacing tone. "I am your master. You will do exactly as I say. You will be my house elves if I demand it. You will kiss the ground I walk on if I say so. Understood?"

Narcissa blinked, surprised that she was still alive. Bellatrix, on the other hand, uncurled from her corner of the couch and slowly slid off to her knees, where she gave Harry a deep bow. "Yes, Master," she said without looking up.

Narcissa looked in horror at her sister, then back in fear and uncertainty at Harry. After staring into Harry's smoldering green eyes, Narcissa slowly lowered her head. "Yes," she whispered.

"Yes, what," Harry thundered.

Narcissa, always a survivor, took a deep breath. "Yes, Master," she said with a small nod.

Harry gave the sisters a curt nod and stalked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**THE SPOILS OF WAR**

**BY AERIE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

**GOING HOME**

It was the last night of their Hogwarts career and the trio were sitting quietly together before the fire. Finally, Ron broke the silence. "So you aren't going to be an Auror?"

Harry sighed. "No. I've got a lot to sort out right now."

Hermione sighed. "It's true what the Daily Prophet says? That you now own the Malfoy and LeStrange estates as well as the Potter estate?"

Ron snorted in mirth. "I remember once I accused you of getting everything, back in fourth year?"

Harry grimaced.

Ron began to chuckled. "Well, now you don't need to get everything. You now have everything," he said with a guffaw.

Hermione gasped. "Ron!" she exclaimed, scandalized.

Harry chuckled. "Well, maybe not everything," he said with a smile. "Not Head Boy, or Captain of the Quidditch Cup Team for two years running. Some other prat got that," he said with a smile. "Of course, being awarded the Order of Merlin First Class doesn't hurt, either."

Harry smiled at the thought that Ron and Hermione had been two of eight combatants given this award, along with himself, Neville and the Headmaster and three others he didn't know. And he knew that the award carried a 50,000 Galleon honorarium and a 5,000 a year lifetime stipend. He knew that while this paled next to his own millions, 50,000 Galleons was more money than Ron had dreamed of having in his vault. So Ron was happy.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ron smirked. "True class will show through at the end," he said, making a show of polishing his Head Boy badge, mimicking his brother Percy. "Right Hermione?"

Hermione simply blushed at Ron's reference to her being Head Girl.

Harry laughed, but the laughter didn't last. "Yeah, I got a lot," he said as he shook his head, sadly. "More than I can handle, it seems."

Ron glanced over at Harry. "Is it true what I heard Dad say? That you own Malfoy's mom?"

Hermione's head jerked up. "People don't own other people," she said in a scolding tone.

Harry turned his head to look at Hermione sadly. "Ron's right, Hermione. Narcissa is now my property," he said sadly. He could see Hermione begin to work up into an argument. "That's not all," he said, cutting her off. "I also own Bellatrix LeStrange."

Hermione's eyes widened past what Harry thought possible. "That evil woman! Why isn't she in Azkaban!"

Harry closed his eyes, leaning back so his head was flopping over the top of the couch. "It's that stupid _Praedia Bellica_ spell I cast after I destroyed Voldemort. By casting it after killing Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus LeStrange, I inadvertently laid claim on all of the Malfoy and LeStrange possessions, including their wives."

Hermione gasped. "That's so sexist!" she exclaimed.

Harry sighed. "The spell only works on spouses who are co-conspirators with their husbands or wives on dark acts," he explained. "Once I uttered the victory spell, they ceased to be recognized as human beings and became property, no better than a robe or an inkpot," he said with resignation.

Hermione looked at Harry in shock. "But ... but ..." she sputtered. "I thought that was just ... a metaphor. Or a lot of stupid innuendo in the newspapers. That they were yours to do with what you liked. That you held their fates in your hands ..."

But Hermione's sputtering was cut off by Ron, who was now howling in laughter. "Malfoy's mum is now your property? Oh, I'd love to see his face when he hears that," he said, now rolling on the couch in laughter and drawing stares from the rest of the common room.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. "But ... can't you just let them go? Hand them over to the Ministry for trial?"

Harry sighed. "It doesn't work that way. Once I claimed them as spoils of war, the Ministry's authority over them ended. I did have to pay fines for their crimes. The LeStrange Estate was assessed eighteen million galleons for her crimes. That was more than a third of their total estate, from what I've been told. Narcissa's crimes cost a million galleons, but that's just tip money to them."

"Can't you just free them?" Hermione pressed earnestly.

"I can't let them go as they have no status in the Wizarding World except as my property. They can't remarry, or sign contracts-even something as simple as a lease or a contract to buy a house. They can't even defend themselves except with their wands if someone harms them. I have to go to the Aurors or the Ministry or the Wizangamut to make the claims on their behalf-for damaging my property, so to speak. They would be defenseless on their own. They have no money and no way to make a living. They have no marketable skills and who would hire them, anyway? They are only safe because I own them," he said sourly.

Ron whistled at the sums Harry was tossing around, but Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. "It doesn't seem fair, somehow," she muttered.

Harry sighed again. "Bellatrix was thrilled. She was facing a Dementor's kiss. But Narcissa is furious. She figured she could buy her way out of this mess. She thought wrong," Harry said with a droll look.

"How do you know?" Ron asked.

"I talk to them. They're here in the castle."

Hermione gasped. "Is that where you disappear to every day?"

Harry gave a vague nod.

Ron stared at his friend. "That's why the Room of Requirement wouldn't open for me," he said absently.

Hermione gasped again, but Harry chuckled. "Lavender?"

Ron glanced at Hermione and blushed, then gave a quick nod.

Hermione looked up, startled. "Lavender? You're the secret boyfriend?" she exclaimed, the color draining from her face.

Ron shrugged.

Harry glanced over to Hermione. "Only for the past four months."

Hermione flushed and shook her head.

Ron laughed. "And what about you, Miss Time-to-Study-for-the-N.E.W.T.s? No secret boyfriends that we don't know about?"

Hermione gave Harry a sidelong glance. "No one at the moment."

Ron started laughing again, but Harry reached over to give Hermione's shoulder a squeeze.

When Ron finally recovered from his laughing bout, he gave Harry a knowing look. "No need to ask about you," he said with a smirk. "You've been too busy for anything lately." He then snorted in mirth. "Until now, of course. So, you've been taking care of your property?"

Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't believe it. They were stuck down in the dungeons for nearly three days still in the filthy, bloody clothes they had on during the battle. I made sure Dobby put them in the Room of Requirement and got them some decent clothing and toilet facilities."

Ron smirked again. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Hermione gasped, but Harry simply stared at his best friend.

"Harry, you wouldn't," Hermione squeaked in outrage.

Harry looked back and forth between his two friends, one leering, the other staring in shock. "I. Would. Never. Stoop. So. Low." He uttered in disgust.

Ron simply shook his head. "Never is a long time. Of course, they're very old ..."

Harry lowered his head. "Bellatrix is about to turn thirty-six. Narcissa is thirty-eight. They married directly out of Hogwarts."

He could feel Hermione's grasp on his arm tighten. "You wouldn't even think of ..."

Harry looped his arm around her shoulders. "Not when there are so many pretty women around closer to my own age," he said with a smile.

Hermione blushed. Suddenly all her arguments seemed to evaporate.

Harry chuckled. "So when are you two coming to visit me at Potter Manor? I get the feeling I'm going to need the company."

"Soon as possible," Ron said with a laugh. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

It was a bittersweet last ride on the Hogwarts Express.

The Headmaster arranged for Bellatrix and Narcissa to share a warded compartment in the last carriage of the train. After a couple more visits from Harry that were less confrontational that the last one, the sisters no longer had an immediate fear for their lives, but had seemed to settle into a quiet resignation.

Narcissa sighed as she watched the countryside fly by. After that night Harry threatened to kill them, she had been terrified that all her worst nightmares were coming true. Harry would abuse them or ignore them, humiliate them in the worst possible ways, and make their lives a living hell.

She had quietly cursed her sister for ever suggesting that foul _Praedia Bellica_ spell, Narcissa knew that, but for that evil spell, she would be back in Malfoy Manor, doubtless nursing some of the wounds on her life and fortune that a vindictive Wizarding World would inflict upon her. But she would still be free, and no doubt, very wealthy. There is no greater solace from the ills of the world than a pile of gold and the knowledge of how to use it to extract a full measure of revenge.

She glanced again at her sister and shook her head sadly. Bellatrix had been eerily silent, staring off into space, that first night after Harry's tantrum. Narcissa grimaced at how easily Belle had accepted Harry's assumption of the role of master over them. But then, Belle had been suffering under cruel masters for all her adult life. Harry would be just one more.

Then, the nightmares started. Narcissa was grateful that this Room of Requirement had its own silencing charms. It was all she could do to comfort her younger sister. Bellatrix had screamed and pawed the air, fighting off Narcissa's desperate embrace for nearly a minute before calming. It had frightened Narcissa. These were not like the bad dreams of a Draco's childhood, but horrible visions that must haunt Bellatrix to her very core. Narcissa cried that night. For herself. And for her sister.

The following afternoon, Harry reappeared in the sisters' rooms. He was not warm and friendly, but this was not the fearful monster of the night before. He had asked about their comfort and their health. He produced a couple vials of potions to ease Bellatrix's painful shoulder and help it heal.

And he sat and talked for a few minutes. He told them how they would be staying at Potter Manor until they could figure out what was best. And he asked if she and Bellatrix needed anything.

Bellatrix had not taken her eyes off Potter for the entire time. And Narcissa noted how her sister's expression slowly softened throughout the brief conversation from one of stiff anxiety to a more relaxed, less frightened one.

Narcissa finally took a deep breath and asked if any dreamless sleep potion was available. She could see Harry almost flinched at her request and feared he would get angry again. "Problems sleeping?" he asked in a neutral tone.

Narcissa's eyes darted to Bellatrix, then back to Harry.

The young man frowned in thought. "It's a very dangerous potion that can't be used over a long period, you know," he said quietly, surprising Narcissa at this knowledge.

With that, he left.

Later that night, he appeared again with a single dose of the dreamless sleep potion, which he took to Bellatrix's room. On his return, he sat down across from her. "Only one dose," he said in a neutral tone. "It only addresses the symptoms, not the underlying problem. She shouldn't get used to it. It does no good in the long run."

Narcissa stared at the young man. She saw him frown and make to get up. "Please stay a moment," she asked. "It does get dreadfully dull here, with just the two of us and no contact with the outside."

Harry frowned, but settled back.

The conversation, and two subsequent ones, though consisting mainly of idle and inconsequential small talk, seemed to breathe new life into the sisters' souls. Harry was not the monster they feared.

Perhaps there was some small hope for the future.

With this in mind, Narcissa continued to watch the scenery as the Hogwarts Express approached its destination-and her fate.

Harry shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati. The group cried as they got off the train. He wondered when he would see them all again. He'd already arranged for Ron and Hermione to come over for occasional weekends during the summer.

Ron would be working for his brothers in a new Weasley Wizard Wheezes shop in a Wizarding community in Devon, near the Burrow. Harry knew that Ron took a particular pride in being able to help bankroll the new store. If everything worked to plan, Ron would end up a full partner and be running the shop by the end of the summer. Hermione was set to begin an apprenticeship at St. Mungo's in September.

As for Harry, he had to figure out how to run the largest set of estates in the Wizarding World. At seventeen years old, with no particular training outside of his defense against the dark arts lessons, this was a daunting task. He sighed as he passed through the barrier to the Muggle area of King's Cross Station to say his last good-byes to all his friends and classmates.

He saw Hermione run to embrace her parents. Suddenly, she was dragging them both to Harry.

"He did it! Mom! Dad! He destroyed Voldemort!" she exclaimed. "We're all safe now!"

Harry was shocked as Mrs. Granger, who he barely knew, walked up to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Harry, for taking care of our Hermione and keeping her safe for all these years," she exclaimed.

Mr. Granger walked up and gave Harry a brief, manly hug, then shook Harry's hand. "You don't know how much we worried about our precious one, here. But from everything she's told us, we should have known she was in good hands with you keeping an eye on her."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"So, when are you coming over for dinner, young man?" Mrs. Granger gushed. "We've heard so much about you that we practically consider you part of the family. We'd love to get to know you a lot better. And I'm sure Hermione is anxious to see more of you outside of school," she said with a knowing smile.

Harry was startled and glanced at Hermione, who was blushing at how her parents were fawning over her best friend. "Well, I have to get settled into my new home first," he said.

Mrs. Granger brightened. "Oh, Hermione wrote to us that you finally had a home of your own. Maybe we can come help. You know, dentists need to have a bit of the artist in them to be good at what they do," she said with a sly grin. "And I've always fancied myself as somewhat of decorator. I've helped some of my friends with decorating ideas. If you need us, just give us a ring."

Mr. Granger smiled and put his arm over Harry's shoulder. "What's the place like? We'd be more than happy to help. Hermione would drag us along even if we weren't," he said with a laugh.

Harry reached into his trunk. "Here's a couple pictures of the place," he said nervously as he pulled the photos out. "I was only there a couple of times last summer, when I turned seventeen and came into my inheritance. But I couldn't stay very long. Security and all that."

Mrs. Granger gasped and Mr. Granger staggered a moment as they looked at the photos. They showed a very large, elegant three-story Georgian Manor house. "My lord," Mrs. Granger managed to gasp out. "So big."

Harry frowned. "Remus told me it was 2,900 square meters. It is pretty big."

Mr. Granger slowly raised his eyes to meet Harry's. He blinked a couple times before he found his voice. "Uh, Harry. It's not merely 'pretty big.' It's nearly ten times the size of our house." Mrs. Granger gave Hermione a sidelong glance and raised her eyebrows.

Harry shrugged. "Well, if you ever want to come visit, there's lots of bedrooms, so there'll be plenty of room."

Mr. Granger was still trying to get his mind around the size and scale of Potter Manor when two women approached Harry and stood directly behind him. The dark-haired one possessed a haunting beauty that was almost painful to behold. But the other one was one of the most stunning, regal women Edward Granger had ever seen. "Uh, Harry? Friends of yours?" he managed to gasp out.

Harry turned briefly, then turned back and shrugged. "I guess. This is Narcissa Mal..."

"Black," Narcissa interrupted. "Narcissa Black," she said in a deep, throaty voice, holding out a limp hand to Mr. Granger.

"I'm Bellatrix Black," said the other sister in a slightly lighter tone, offering her hand somewhat more reluctantly.

Mrs. Granger saw Hermione's eyes narrow in disdain for the two women and reluctantly exchanged generalities to the two beautiful women. "You are friends of Harry's?"

Bellatrix was about to respond when she caught a warning look from Narcissa. "We are employees of Mr. Potter. We help him with his finances, his social calendar and the like," the elder Black sister said in an imperious tone.

After a few more moments, Hermione and her parents departed.

"Who are they?" Mrs. Granger asked Hermione urgently.

Hermione harrumphed. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you," she said in a sullen tone.

Harry was now glancing nervously around the station.

Narcissa watched the teen impatiently. "Is there a problem, Pot..." then she bit her tongue. It wouldn't do to keep calling him by his last name, judging by how violently he reacted last time she did so. "Maybe I can help," she said in a more solicitous voice.

Harry continued to look around the station. Finally he shrugged. "Uh, I've got a portkey, but I don't know where it's safe around here to use it. All these Muggles." He paused, blushing a little. "I've always been picked up by Muggle relatives. I've never used magic to leave the station."

Narcissa gave a frown of distaste. 'Muggles,' she thought. 'The very idea.'

"There are four apparation points in the station and four warded areas where you can use a portkey," she said as if to a schoolboy. "The ends of Platforms Nine and Ten extend six meters beyond what the Muggles can see. We usually use Platform Nine when dropping off ... for departures, as there are no Muggle trains scheduled for that Platform at the time. But, as you can see, Platform Nine has a train boarding. So for arrivals, we usually choose Platform Ten, which should be empty."

Harry gave a curt nod and began to manhandle his trunk while trying to balance Hedwig's cage.

Narcissa sighed in disgust. "Oh, here. Let me," she said in exasperation. Then she stopped cold.

"What?" Harry asked in an annoyed voice.

Narcissa lowered her head. "I have no wand," she said quietly.

Bellatrix walked over to her sister. "Neither do I."

Harry frowned. "Still? What happened to them?"

"It was destroyed by that last curse you used," Bellatrix said quietly with little emotion.

"Mine was unfortunately snapped in the process of returning it to me," Narcissa said in an annoyed tone. "It was 'accidentally stepped on' when they were going over the field where the battle took place. Ironic in that it was never on the field in the first place. I surrendered it directly to an Auror when they came to take me away."

Harry nodded. Then he looked at his trunk. He hated shrinking charms. He never seemed to get the size right. He looked around to make sure no Muggles were watching and uttered the charm quietly. The trunk shrunk down to the size of a lunch pail. He shook his head in annoyance. 'That won't fit in my pocket,' he thought sadly. He scooped up the now more manageable trunk, grabbed Hedwig's cage and stalked off to find the end of Platform Ten, followed meekly by Bellatrix and not so meekly by Narcissa.

As Narcissa followed Harry, she began to speculate. 'He was an attractive young man. And so powerful,' she thought idly. 'But so naïve. So unworldly. He has so much to learn.' She permitted herself the smallest of smiles

Narcissa blinked as she looked around. This was not like Malfoy Manor. Not at all.

She gazed to her left and saw what must be the ballroom, although it was full of chairs and couches and oriental rugs scattered randomly throughout the huge room. On the right, she could see a large drawing room, tastefully furnished. And directly ahead was the grand entrance, with a gently curving staircase leading to the floors above.

No, this was not Malfoy Manor. It was much smaller.

But what a difference. The walls were not stone, but plaster, decorated in brightly patterned wallpaper. And the light! The windows were not small slits but tall, wide and open, allowing a soft, fragrant late June breeze to waft in. There were no torches on the walls, but elaborate candelabra hanging from the ceilings or on specially made floating platforms. And the walls were not decorated with weapons and the heads of house elves, but with paintings-not just family portraits, but of landscapes and still lives.

It was not just a large building. It had all the makings of a home.

Then Narcissa gave an inward shudder. A home. But not her home. It was lovely. But it was still a prison for her and her sister, and would be, doubtless, for the rest of their lives. And no matter how lovely, a prison is still a prison.


End file.
